


Babies Like Bouncing, Right?

by klose



Category: Star Trek (2009)
Genre: De-Aged, Gen, Kid Fic, The Counter-clock Incident
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-24
Updated: 2012-04-24
Packaged: 2017-11-04 06:02:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,693
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/390589
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/klose/pseuds/klose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Enterprise has been pulled into a negative universe that's causing the crew to de-age rapidly, and it's up to Admiral Pike to babysit and get them all safely back home. (Very loosely inspired by the Animated Series episode, "The Counter-clock Incident").</p>
            </blockquote>





	Babies Like Bouncing, Right?

**Author's Note:**

> My deepest thanks to [bookdragon01](http://archiveofourown.org/users/bookdragon01/profile) for taking the time to look this over and weed out my many typos and errors. Thank you!

As he looked around the bridge of the Enterprise, Admiral Christopher Pike realised that he was surrounded by children.  
  
Unfortunately, this wasn't a metaphor or sarcastic quip about the youth of the crew. They were, in fact, children. (Or babies, as in the case of one Pavel Chekov, now a sniffling bundle of blankets in his arms.)  
  
Chris's own reflection in one of the gleaming white interfaces of the starship had shown him with dark hair and many fewer wrinkles, but he was fairly certain (95.6% certain, Spock might say) that these effects would be reversed by the combined shouting, running and general trouble-making in which the de-aged Enterprise crew were currently engaged.  
  
"Jim, stop pulling Uhura's hair," he said, attempting to separate those very two with his elbow. "Uhura, no more punching. McCoy, could you please - ?"  
  
"Yessir." The doctor – now a quiet teen, which would have been a surreal change from his usual grumbling, tough-talking self if this entire situation hadn't been a damn portrait in surreal – guided Uhura and Jim to join Scott and Sulu in some game they'd set up by the comm station. Something with model starships, a stuffed Sehlat, and what was hopefully a toy tribble.  
  
Chris sat back down in the Captain's seat. It wasn't a place he thought he would find himself again, ever, but these were special circumstances. What had originally started as a simple escort mission - get himself, Admiral Pike, to Babel in time for Starfleet's annual work-plan conference - quickly devolved into... he didn't even know, really, though rumour had it that this was a regular day for the Enterprise. However, even this was a first for the 'Fleet flagship: being inadvertently pulled into a "negative universe", where people talked backwards, children were older than their parents, and the Enterprise's crew found themselves regressing into their youth.  
  
Taking a deep breath, Chris looked over to the helm. "Spock, how are we doing?"  
  
"We will reach the dead star in eleven minutes, sir." Because Vulcans aged - or de-aged, as it were – more slowly, Spock was a still teenager. Thanks in part to his Vulcan brain, he remained a genius, and was thus still able to keep the ship moving. Chris certainly wasn't complaining; he needed the help. Nonetheless -  
  
"That's eleven minutes we may not have. Thank you, Spock," he added, when the other raised an eyebrow at him, never mind that it was disconcerting to see that familiar expression on a much younger face.  
  
An older Spock had attributed the rapid de-ageing of the crew in the negative universe to entropy. They'd coped well enough in the initial stages, until too many crewmen hit the point of their adolescence when they were no longer able to perform any of their duties. That was when Chris had taken command.  
  
At the present point, however, it wouldn't be long before Chekov became a ball of cells. Spock and McCoy would be too young to help, and Chris would be left alone to babysit and get the Enterprise out of the negative universe and back into their own.  
  
Well, not completely alone - but the very few other older folk on-board were presently occupied with keeping ship operations running and making sure the rest of the de-aged Enterprise crew, which numbered in the hundreds, didn't endanger themselves or each other. No easy task, and once this nightmare was over, Chris would personally recommend all of them for promotions; as far as he was concerned, commendations were a given.  
  
Something bumped his knee, and Chris looked down to see that Jim had wandered over. He was somewhat smaller and blonder than he had been two minutes earlier.  
  
Big blue eyes stared up at him balefully. "'m hungry."  
  
"I'll have McCoy get you a sandwich from the replicator."  
  
"Um... don’t wanna sandwich." Jim pressed his lips together, before brightening. "Wanna cookie!"  
  
"No, Jim. You had entire plate of cookies earlier."  
  
As it was, the resultant sugar rush had led Kirk to break four tricorders, kick McCoy, spill food crumbs all over the nav console, and get himself _and_ Scott stuck in the Jeffries tubes. Crawling around the cramped conduits to get them out had been painstaking, not least because Jim would move away with a snicker whenever he was close to being caught. While Chris's own de-aging meant he was fitter than before, Jim's small size and surprising agility had given him the advantage in the narrow tubes.  
  
The crewman who had given Kirk the confectionery in the first place would have been threatened with exile to Delta Vega - at the very least - except it turned out to be Kirk himself. While still in his adolescent stage, he had hacked into the replicators and re-programmed them to dispense only foods containing processed sugar.  
  
Most unfortunately for Chris, Starfleet Command was unlikely to approve punishing the Captain of their flagship for the crime of gorging on cookies.  
  
At the present moment, however, said Captain's childish features began shifting in response to Chris's very firm _no, Jim_ : first into a pout, followed by a scowl, and finally into the apparent precursor to a fit of tears. It would have been comical if Chris hadn't also had enough of toddler tantrums for three lifetimes. Instead, he had to hastily balance Chekov – now peacefully snoozing, thank goodness – on one arm, and use the other to draw Jim in.  
  
"If you're a good boy for the next one hour, you can have some milk and a peanut-butter sandwich." Chris grimaced. Never thought he'd be saying those words to Jim Kirk, much less while sitting on the Enterprise's command chair. But if all went well, Jim would be on his way to adulthood in the next hour, and Chris wouldn't be held to his promise of snacks. For one thing, he wasn't entirely sure that Jim _wasn't_ allergic to peanut butter. Or milk. Or bread, for that matter.  
  
"With jelly?"  
  
... Or jelly. Chris sighed heavily. "Fine, you can have a glass of milk and a peanut butter _and jelly_ sandwich. But only _if_ you behave. Now go help McCoy take care of the other children. _Please_."  
  
Finally, after a few more moments of pouting and inane chattering, Jim ambled back to the others. Of course, Chekov chose that exact moment to wake up bawling.  
  
  
***  
  
  
An indeterminate amount of time later, Chris raised his voice, trying to be heard over the still-wailing infant in his hands. "What's our status, Mr. Spock?"  
  
The helmsman's chair swung around, and Chris's heart sank. Spock's legs were now swinging several inches off the ground. A quick look back to the comm's station indicated that most of the others were now tottering toddlers. As before, their uniforms had also shrunk with them.  
  
Chris stood, bouncing Chekov in his aching arms (babies liked bouncing, right?), and checked the various readings at the helm console. "Spock, I need you to help McCoy make sure the others don't get hurt. And that's enough eyebrow-raising from you, young man." He really didn't need judgement from a six-year old half-Vulcan right now.  
  
At least said half-Vulcan had managed to programme the ship's computer so all Chris had to do now was to start the detonation process. If all went well, the resulting explosion would pull them back into the correct universe. Chris punched in the numbers, trying to keep his concentration amidst the continuing sobbing of baby Pavel.  
  
"Everyone, please, let's gather around the Captain's chair." Chris sat back down at the chair. Happily, the children were in an obeying sort of mood, and he only had to repeat himself three times before they complied. He had them huddle together, and was gratified to see that Spock was helping – even holding Uhura's hand – and McCoy was making sure they were all keeping quiet.  
  
Jim insisted on climbing into Chris lap, and it was awkward balancing both him and Chekov, but Chris reminded himself that he only had to manage this just for the period it took to travel through the supernova.  
  
Hands otherwise tied up, he used his elbow to activate the ship-wide speaker on the armrest of the command chair.  
  
"All decks, this is Admiral Pike. We're due to be pulled into the supernova in a short moment, and hopefully return to our universe in the process. Hold on tight."  
  
As he switched off the comm, sudden noise erupted from the children. Scott was shouting at Sulu, his accent made even thicker by his current youth. Suppressing a sigh, Chris went over to investigate, pausing to pull Uhura's thumb out of her mouth and shushing Jim as he began blowing raspberries at McCoy.  
  
If Chris wasn't allowed some time off after this, heads would roll.  
  
  
***  
  
  
"... resumed course to Babel, ETA 3.5 hours. The medical team has also completed their checks, and Doctor McCoy reports that everyone is back to, er, normal, Admiral."  
  
Chris nodded. He certainly felt the difference; his joints were just that bit creakier, and he once again needed his cane to get around. His hair, of course, was back to grey. These were sources of regret, certainly, but it was a relief that the Enterprise's crew was back to their adult selves.  
  
"Duly noted; inform me when we're in the vicinity of Theta III. Thank you, Mr. Kirk."  
  
Having dismissed him, Chris turned his attention to the PADD in his hands. Starfleet Command was still awaiting his report of the incident. Kirk didn't leave, however.  
  
"Is there anything else, Captain?"  
  
"Yes, sir." Jim nodded. His brows furrowed into a deep frown. "I never did get that peanut butter and jelly sandwich."  
  
"Get out," Chris growled.  
  
Laughing, Kirk gave him a salute – one that was simultaneously sharp and nonchalant – before getting up and moving towards the door.  
  
"But seriously, sir," he said, pausing to look back earnestly. "We were lucky that you were on board when this whole thing went down. Thanks for taking care of us."  
  
With one last, bright grin, Kirk swaggered out the door.  
  
Releasing a deep, exasperated breath, Chris took up his PADD again, and got back to work. Correct universe or not, he was still surrounded by children.

 


End file.
